


5 Times Mac Needed His Glasses and 1 Time He Didn't

by KatieComma



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Ranchverse, glasses!Mac, macdalton, professor!Mac, so much cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatieComma/pseuds/KatieComma
Summary: This is a "Five Times... and 1 Time..." fic... but it's a gift and I've been keeping the theme a secret... so I'm going to rename it once Lavender has read it.OFFICIALLY TITLED NOW!!! And I think the title speaks for itself.Needless to say there is cuteness and established relationship MacDalton throughout.Also: there are references to Ranchverse (Lavender's beautiful AU about Jack's family ranch)... but I don't necessarily think you need to have read that to get this... hopefully not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lavendersblues (lonely_lovebird)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonely_lovebird/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Deep in the Heart of Texas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16462949) by [lavendersblues (lonely_lovebird)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonely_lovebird/pseuds/lavendersblues). 



> AHHHHHH!!!! HOW COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN TO THANK N1GHTSHADE FOR BETA READING?!?!?!?! YOU'RE THE BEST!!! THANK YOU!!!

1.

Sleeping on the ranch was the best. There was something so soothing about the soft sounds of the animals, the lack of city noise, and the warm weight of Jack next to him in the creaky old bed.

So Mac was sleeping like a log, dreaming about documenting the Higgs-Bosun particle deterioration of Uranium when his assistant, an otter with sunglasses, looked at him and said his name softly in a woman’s voice. Mac cocked his head at the creature/lab assistant, ignored the voice, and returned to his study, at which point all of the particles bloomed into bright pink cotton candy.

“Mac,” the otter said again, this time more insistent. “Time to wake up Mac,” the voice sounded oddly like Linda Dalton’s.

“But the cotton candy,” Mac muttered, and he could feel that he’d said it aloud in the waking world as well. The fluffy pink pseudoscience world around him started to fade as he woke up slowly.

“Cotton candy?” Linda asked softly, and he knew now that it was actually her.

Mac’s eyes opened slow and heavy as he left the cotton candy dream behind him. Linda’s face swam blurry in his vision. “Mama?” The word came out before he could think about what he was saying.

His indecision at using that word was banished with the smile that plumped her cheeks when he said it. 

“Come on son,” she said, tugging gently on Mac’s arm.

Mac blinked sleepily and turned to see Jack snoring lightly, drooling onto his pillow. The sleep of a soldier is a strange thing. They can sleep like the dead almost anywhere, but the tiniest sounds and movements can wake them.

“Don’t you worry about him. He’s out like a light, ” Linda whispered. “Come on now.”

Mac obeyed and crawled out of bed, careful to do so slowly and avoid making the bed creak too much, watching Jack’s face the whole time to make sure he stayed asleep.

It was dark, the sun still hiding. Mac left his phone behind, and with it the actual time.

Linda led him out to the back hall. Her short body could have been called chubby or chunky without consideration for her hard-lived ranch lifestyle. Everywhere on Linda Dalton that looked round or soft was actually mostly muscle hiding under plaid shirts and loose work clothing. Her dark hair was shot through with grey and tamed up into a loose bun. There was something so comforting and motherly about her, while at the same time holding to her hard, tough attitude.

She grabbed a chunky knitted sweater from a hook and handed it to Mac, but pulled the offered sweater back at the last second and looked him up and down in the bright hall light.

“I do believe that’s my son’s shirt you’re wearing,” she remarked in that way she had where he couldn’t tell if she was mad or surprised.

Mac looked down. The black ACDC shirt was a bit too big on him, hanging loose around his shoulders that weren’t quite as broad as Jack’s. It was his favourite shirt to steal.

“My husband used to have an old worn jacket,” Linda said, not letting him answer the question. She passed him the sweater. “Plaid, quilted and lined. It was like huggin’ him when I put that damn thing on. Smelled like him. Even seemed warm when he hadn’t worn it in ages. I used to steal that jacket all the time and wear it. He was always lookin’ for it.”

Mac smiled at the story, pulling the warm sweater tight around himself in the draughty back hall.

“That’s true love, that is,” Linda said. “Loving someone so much that you want to be surrounded by them all the time.”

Mac smiled in response, still not trusting his half-asleep brain to make coherent or appropriate comments.

Linda led him out to the old farm truck. It chugged to life, and she drove them toward town.

The morning was cold and in addition to only wearing his thin sleep pants, his feet were bare inside his sneakers. But the truck heated up quickly, spewing warm air at him from the dash. Mac held his hands gratefully in front of the vents, the air almost too hot.

The silence between them was comfortable and Mac realized suddenly that he felt like he had a mother again for the first time since he was five years old. The way she’d taken him in and treated him like her own immediately gave him the most wonderful sense of family in a way that his team at the Phoenix never had. Mac could have ridden around in that truck for hours, just feeling her soothing motherly presence next to him as he snuggled into the worn sweater with stretched out arms that fell to his fingertips.

But the ride ended too soon when Linda turned off the headlights and pulled into the parking lot of the town B&B.

She didn’t say a word, just opened the creaky old truck door and started walking purposefully around the side of the building. Mac followed her into the cold pre-dawn morning, around the side of the Inn, pulling the sweater tight around himself for warmth. His thoughts strayed to returning to the house and crawling in beside a furnace-hot, sleeping Jack. Clutching onto that thought, along with the sweater, he felt warmer immediately.

Linda led him down across the back yard to a little bench right by the river’s edge. They sat down together, shuffling close to each other to keep warm.

“Ma-” He almost let the affectionate title slip from him again, but was too awake to let it come out all the way, and corrected himself awkwardly, stumbling through a couple other choices. “Linda… Mrs. Dalton… I just want you to know-”

“Angus, don’t get yourself all worked up now. I didn’t bring you out here to give you some mama hen speech about Jack.”

Mac looked over at her, puzzled. That’s exactly what he’d thought was happening.

“This is about you,” she said kindly. “You’re my boy now too. And we’ve got a lot to learn about each other. I love Jack Junior, but he’s a lot sometimes. It’s hard to get a word in edgewise around that boy.”

Mac laughed, feeling it deep down in that place he rarely felt his laughs go. Most of the time his laughter only scratched the surface. Sometimes he thought he was broken, that he didn’t taken enough pleasure in his friends and the people around him. Or that he didn’t care as much as he should. But it wasn’t that way with Jack, or the rest of the Dalton clan. He felt comfortable with them, and his laughter traveled deep more often around them.

“Get over here,” Linda said suddenly, “you’re shakin’ like a leaf at harvest.” She put an arm around Mac and pulled him against her warm side. Mac let himself fit there, laying his head on her shoulder. So this is what it was like to have a parent as an adult. Someone who cared about him, and maybe even loved him. Touched and held. Mac wanted to cry he felt so overwhelmed by the easy affection she gave him.

They were silent for a few minutes, sharing that wonderful comfortable family quiet while they leaned into each other and breathed together.

“Whenever I can’t sleep I come down here,” Linda’s voice was hoarse with tiredness.

Mac was overcome with sadness at the idea of her up at all hours unable to rest. There were some things he could check for her before he left to make sure she was comfortable for the future: the right pillow, a mattress that was supportive enough, airflow in her bedroom. He’d make sure everything was optimal.

“Why here?” Mac asked.

“It’s the best place in the whole county to watch the sun rise.”

Mac looked toward the horizon, his eyes still fuzzy with sleep. Reflexively he reached up to adjust his glasses, only his fingers found nothing there. Reaching up into his hair, he didn’t find them there either. The sky was beginning to lighten. There wasn’t time to get back to the house and get his glasses. The sunrise would be sullied by his poor vision.

“Crap,” he muttered, frowning at the horizon and squinting his eyes to see if it would help. “I can’t even-”

“Lookin’ for these?” Linda asked, pulling Mac’s glasses from her pocket and handing them over. The smug expression she wore as she jostled his shoulder with her own reminded him so much of Jack it almost stopped his heart with happiness.

“Thanks,” he said, adding more quietly, “mama,” in case she didn’t care for him calling her that. He slipped the glasses on and relaxed as the river, and trees, and sky all became clear.

“My husband was forever losin’ his reading glasses,” she said. “After a while I took to lookin’ out for them whenever I was walkin’ around the house.” She patted Mac’s shoulder and pulled him into a little hug. “Don’t you worry, Applejack’ll get the hang of it.”

Mac smiled so wide it hurt, the use of one of her many nicknames for Jack bringing him so much amusement he thought he might burst. “He’s got the hang of it already,” he admitted. “He’s always finding them for me.”

“That’s my boy,” Linda said so quietly Mac barely heard the whisper leave her lips.

They sat like that as the sun started to break the horizon, sparkling on the flowing water in front of them, and streaming through the tree branches on the opposite bank, the fall leaves and warm sunlight making it look like they were lit on fire.

“It ain’t just the sunrise brings me down here,” Linda admitted, her eyes a bit misty. She teared up the way Jack did: letting the tears come right to the edge but never letting them fall, eventually blinking them back.

Mac didn’t ask, just let her come to it in her own time.

“This is where _my_ Jack proposed to me,” she said. “Had on his church suit, got down right in the mud at the edge of the river and asked me to marry him.”

Mac smiled and looked out at the sunrise.

“I didn’t even notice at first!” She admitted, half laughing to herself. “I was so taken with the sunrise that I didn’t even look down. By the time I noticed him kneelin’ there he’d ruined his pants in the mud!”

Linda’s laughter trickled out and devolved into giggles, infecting Mac until they were leaned into each other for support, bodies shaking with their amusement. 

Once they’d both regained their breath and composure, Mac smiled at Linda. She reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear and the motherly act did something to Mac inside, turning his stomach upside down. Before he knew what he was doing he’d pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his long arms around her tough little body. Somehow, even though he was the larger of them, she was the one providing all the comfort and feeling of safety.

Something came loose inside of Mac. Something he’d held there tight since his mother died, something he hadn't realized was poisoning him from the inside out. When it let go his whole body hurt and he felt like he wanted to scream, and throw up, and cry, and punch something. Instead he sobbed into Linda’s shoulder, his glasses squishing uncomfortably against his face. With each breath he took in he smelled fresh baked bread, Ivory soap, and the earthy undertone of the farm.

“It’s ok honey’,” she soothed, smoothing a hand down his hair. “You just let it on out. Mama’s here for you sugar.”

Mac took her up on it, and spilled out all of the foulness that he’d been holding in for so long. He didn’t want it anymore, didn’t need it. He had the Dalton’s now, and he’d make a warm place for them where that old darkness had festered. Mama continued to make soothing sounds and hold him tight.

When he was finished and looked up the sun had fully risen about the tree line.

Mama reached up and wiped the tears from his face with her rough callused thumbs, tucking his hair behind both ears again. “It’s alright sweetheart,” she said with a smile, “you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about anymore. You’re a Dalton now, through and through. You’re stuck with us. We’ll always be there for you.”

That did it, and Mac was hugging her tight again, but there weren’t any more tears to cry now, he was just happy.

When they got back to the ranch the sun was much higher in the sky, and everybody was up and moving around. The kitchen was full of Daltons of all sizes: little ones running in circles around their mother Michelle; Jake and Jack leaning casually in their cowboy way against the counter.

“Where’d you two run off to?” Jack asked, raising his eyebrow.

“None of your damn business Jack Junior,” Mama snapped affectionately before she elbowed her way in and got started on breakfast.

“I’m just gonna get dressed,” Mac said, looking down at his pyjamas self consciously.

Jack followed him to the bedroom and closed the door behind them. Mac was grateful he didn’t need to invent a reason for them to be alone, and as soon as the door clicked shut he pulled Jack into a tight hug. The smell of Jack surrounded him and he inhaled deeply pulling it deep down to that new place he’d made for his new family. He cradled Jack’s head with his hand. Jack’s arms were tight around him in one of his famous bear hugs.

“You alright man?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, I’m good now,” he sighed into Jack’s neck.

Finally they pulled away from each other, and Jack looked into his face, concerned. “What in the hell did Mama say to you?”

“I’m officially a Dalton now,” Mac smiled proudly.

2.

Riley rounded the corner, running from the goons that were after them as fast as she could manage without dropping her rig. The super-spy instincts Jack had been teaching her were really starting to take hold, which was for the best since Mac was crawling around the floor in the hallway, and she almost tumbled right over him. Instead her brain said “jump” and she hurdled over his back landing less than gracefully, but on her feet, rig still in hand.

“Mac?” She yelled. “What the hell are you doing?”

Laying unconscious slumped against the wall was a huge security guard.

“Stupid guy knocked out one of my contacts!” Mac snapped, continuing to scour the cream-coloured tile floor.

“Are you serious right now?” She hissed. “Cause three huge guys are about to round that corner!”

“Seriously?” Mac’s eyes widened as he looked up at her from the floor.

Riley gave him a look that said: “would I really joke about something like that?”

Mac jumped up and before he could get his first step in, Riley was already halfway down the hall ahead of him, running like her life depended on it, which may very well have been the case.

Erupting into a stairwell with all the grace of a herd of elephants, Riley stopped abruptly. Mac ran into her from behind and caught her arm before she could tumble down the rough concrete stairs.

“Thanks,” she breathed quietly, clutching her rig to her chest.

“Next time,” Mac whispered back quietly, “give me some warning.”

They listened for a few moments before deciding there was no one in the stairwell and it was safe to descend.

“If we can get down to the lobby,” Riley prompted, using the secured wireless network to scroll through security feed while she walked down the stairs, “we should be golden as far as I can tell.”

“Great news Ri!” Jack called out loudly over comms. It sounded like wind was blowing all around him; hard, heavy wind. They’d been separated earlier, Jack sending them away while he drew off the major players. “I’ll start headin’ in that direction!”

“Where are you Jack?” Mac asked, concern filled his voice and face, creasing his features.

Riley hid her face in her monitor, trying not to smile too wide. Jack could take care of himself, and he didn’t sound worried. But Mac’s concern for him was just… well, the cutest. Riley was trying not to gush over the fledgling relationship. She knew it made them uncomfortable that everyone was all over them about it. But she was so happy for the two of them. The moment they’d made the leap they’d both been happier than she’d ever seen them. Even when Jack had been with her mom he hadn’t smiled so much or so wide, which gave it a tinge of sadness. But more than anything she just wanted Jack to be happy, and Mac gave him that by the boatload.

“What's that? Didn't hear you!” Jack yelled over the rushing air.

The worry in Mac’s voice intensified as he spoke louder. “Where are you?” Eyes unfocused, searching the air in front of him, it was like he thought he’d be able to see right through the building and spot Jack to see if there was imminent danger.

Riley had a feeling she was glad Mac didn’t have that ability.

“Had to…” Jack grunted. “Take a little detour. No problemo man! I’ll see you guys soon!”

They rounded another railing, heading down the next set of stairs. In the lead, Riley had just put her foot on the top stair when the door onto Floor 8 burst open behind them. Instinctively she ducked and turned to assess the threat but avoid an anticipated attack. Jack had been teaching her well.

Mac took the full weight of the guy, thrown into the railing and pinned. Riley clapped her rig shut and swung it hard against the back of the guy’s knees, causing him to buckle to the ground.

Mac recovered his air quickly and pushed the guard away, swinging a fist and catching only air. The guy hadn’t ducked, Mac had just missed. The guard came in swinging and hit Mac hard in the jaw. Mac snapped back up and swung again, missing.

Riley all but sighed aloud as she set her computer down out of the way, hopped up the few steps and gave the guy her meanest right hook just like Jack had taught her; shifting her weight and putting all the spin and power of her whole body behind those two knuckles that connected perfectly.

The guard slid down the wall and Riley turned to Mac, who looked more impressed than stunned, which she appreciated.

“What’s _with_ you?” She asked, picking up her gear and starting back down the stairs. “That guy wasn’t exactly a prize fighter.”

“It’s this stupid contact lens,” Mac said, shaking his head almost like he had water in his ear as he joined her down the stairs side-by-side. “I’ve still just got one in and it’s throwing off my depth perception.” He stopped and grabbed her arm on the next landing. “Hold on.” He reached up with no warning and quickly plucked the lens from his eye.

“Dude!” She all but yelled at him, turning away way too late to miss the gross eye touching. “You couldn’t have warned me?”

Mac tossed the contact onto the ground and continued down the stairs. “I did,” he replied, “I said: ‘hold on.’”

Riley sighed, and checked the security footage again as she started to descend.

“ _Now_ I’m just getting vertigo cause everything’s blurry down there,” he pointed to the bottom of the stairs.

“Alright, Clark Kent, slow down for a second,” she teased. She’d taken to calling him that whenever they were talking about anything related to his glasses, or lack thereof. She stopped, handed Mac her computer, and pulled the backpack from her shoulder. She fished around inside for a minute before she found the case Jack had given her and she handed it over to Mac, trading it for her rig.

“What-” Mac didn’t finish as he flipped the case open to find a pair of shiny, perfect, new glasses.

Riley started back down the stairs, scanning the video feed again. “Jack picked up a bunch of pairs of spare glasses for you and handed them out to everyone,” she said. She changed her voice to a whisper, so Jack wouldn’t pick it up over comms: “said you were losing them all over the place and everybody should be prepared.” She tried not to smile too wide, and kept ahead of Mac so he wouldn’t see the ear to ear grin she just couldn’t hold back. They were the cutest.

Mac was oddly quiet following her down the stairwell, and when her smile finally faded enough and she looked back, there was a serious look on his face that she couldn’t read; caught up in his own head again. But he was wearing his glasses and had stopped complaining about his vertigo.

At the main floor, he grabbed Riley’s arm and held her back from opening the door. Careful, as always, despite the fact that she was watching the feed and could see there was no one around.

Mac crept toward the door quietly.

Matty’s voice suddenly came over comms startling both of them in the silence of the stairwell. “Exfil is waiting in the courtyard guys. But they can’t wait long. Helicopters generally aren’t supposed to land in downtown Hong Kong. I’d say you’ve got about ten minutes before they’ll have to take off.”

“No problem Matty,” Mac whispered. “At the main floor now. Jack, where are you?”

The door to the stairwell popped open, and Mac jumped, tense and immediately ready to attack.

“Right here baby,” Jack laughed as he held the door open for them.

“You scared the life outta me!” Mac chastised.

Riley just laughed. She’d watched Jack approach the door on the security feed.

“Alright people,” Jack’s face was suddenly serious. “What say we get the hell outta Hong Kong?”

Mac nodded and smiled, filing out ahead of Riley.

Seated in the helicopter, watching the neon lights whip by as they headed for the airstrip, Riley pretended to be occupied by her computer. Instead she watched Jack and Mac, seated side-by-side across from her.

“Nice specs, four eyes,” Jack joked, elbowing Mac in the side.

“Yeah,” Mac’s voice was serious. “Thanks for that. Riley told me you… about the spares.” Mac looked over at her to see if she was paying attention, but she was good at faking distracted.

Jack’s face got serious to match. “Never can be too careful,” he said, “not bein’ able to see could mean life or death.”

Riley could see the tension in Mac’s shoulders, knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the seat. He’d never had a problem with flying, what was he so nervous about?

She found out soon enough. Mac muttered a thanks, and turned sideways in a sudden movement that surprised her, and Jack from the look of things. Their lips met, and it was fierce, and involved hands grabbing tac vests and Mac’s tension leaving his body.

Riley’s ear to ear grin returned but she didn’t try to hide it, because no one was paying attention to her. So she let the grin make her cheeks ache as she ducked her head and distracted herself with the data she’d just stolen, pulling her headphones up to crank her tunes and give Mac and Jack some much deserved privacy.

3.

The man was perfectly nice about kidnapping them, until Mac turned and tried to land a punch. And then a solid fist to Mac’s solar plexus downed him in the hallway and stole the air from his body until he blacked out for a second and hit the floor hard. To Jill’s credit she made only the tiniest squeak when the hit sank home into Mac’s soft flesh.

When Mac’s brain started working again, the door was closing on him and Jill inside one of the Phoenix’s interrogation rooms. A room designed to contain people who didn’t want to be there.

Door closed and locked from the outside. Magnetic locks. An all too familiar scenario. He remembered being locked away by Thornton in a similar room when she was trying to keep him from Murdoc. Mac’s favourite part of that memory flickered into his brain next: Jack waiting outside for him. Jack’s unending faith in him.

Mac groaned as he stood, his gut still aching from the hit. From everything he’d seen, they were mercenaries plain and simple. Trained well in the art of hurting people. Putting them down and making them stay there.

Jill was nervously hovering near him, her fingers twisted up tightly into a writhing anxious white-knuckled mass. At least she was alright.

“Jill,” Mac tried to keep his voice soothing, attempted to keep from groaning with the pain radiating outward from his core. “We’re going to be alright. Everything’s alright.”

“Why does this happen so often here?” She asked, her voice frantic. “It seems like at least once a month somebody’s breaking in here and trying to shut us down.”

Mac put a hand to her shoulder. “It’s ok, everything’s going to be fine.” Slow words. Soft voice. Like trying to calm a startled horse on the ranch with Jack. Not that Jill was an animal, but whenever anyone was panicked they reverted to fight or flight and it was a hard instinct to repress without training. Jill wasn’t trained for field work. She was a lab tech. An incredibly intelligent lab tech. But without field training almost anyone went back to basic programming. “It’s ok Jill, I’ve gotten out of one of these rooms before. I can do it again. Deep breaths ok?”

Jill took several quick shallow breaths.

“That’s it,” Mac coaxed. “Just breathe.” He demonstrated several deep breaths. The third one lowered his diaphragm too far, hitting that painful spot and lighting him up with sharp agony. The reaction was involuntary and he doubled over huffing breaths, clenching his teeth and yelling in pain.

“Mac, are you ok?” The panic was gone from her voice.

For some people compassion can overtake panic, and reset their response. Jill seemed to be one of those people. Good. That would help.

“I’m fine,” Mac groaned, straightening again. “I’ll be fine.”

“Did you say you got out of one of these rooms before?” She asked, her brain backtracking.

Mac just nodded, afraid speaking would light up his damaged nerve endings again.

“Alright, what do we do?” She asked. “The door is way too thick to break through, and it’s magnetically locked from the outside.”

Mac looked around. Previously he’d taken some wires from the drop ceiling and used them to fish the padlock wires through the electrical socket. His plan was much the same, except injured the way he was, there was no way he could crawl up into the ceiling and retrieve the wires. 

Something occurred to him suddenly.

“Are you wearing an underwire bra?” He asked.

Jill’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?” Fully offended, her face was red, mouth open in outrage.

Mac rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I need the wire.” He motioned toward the electrical socket as though it would make sense. “To get us out of here.”

After much coaxing, Mac turned away while Jill removed the requested article of clothing. She practically threw it at him.

Zero time to focus on the fact that it was still warm from the heat of her body, Mac ripped the seams open with his Swiss Army Knife, and slipped the wire out. He popped the outlet out of the wall and ducked his head down to look up and catch sight of the cables. But each time he fished up with his bra-wire contraption he just couldn’t get the distance and the angle right. Several times he pulled out the wrong wires and now they were all a mess in his way.

“I just can’t see it!” He yelled in frustration.

“Can’t see what?” Jill asked, crouching down next to him.

“I left my glasses somewhere, and I can’t see the stupid wire I’m fishing for.”

“Well, I don’t know which one you’re looking at,” Jill admitted.

“It’s the rainbow coloured ribbon cable,” Mac said, pointing up into the electrical mess he’d made.

Jill looked sorry. “There’s a million colours going on in there Mac,” she said as she pushed her glasses back up her nose. “I have no idea which one you’re talking about.” 

Mac got an idea. “Are you nearsighted or farsighted?”

“Nearsighted,” she admitted.

“Can I borrow those?” He indicated her glasses.

“Prescriptions don’t work that way Mac,” she said sceptically, “you can’t just grab any old pair of glasses and-”

“Yeah, well I’m desperate,” he admitted. “Maybe if they’re close I’ll be able to see a little better.”

Jill sighed, slipped the thick black cat-eye frames from her face and handed them over.

Mac put them on and was surprised to find they were perfect. The prescription was almost identical.

In no time he had the cable fished out of the wall. But by the time they’d escaped, Jack and the tac team had cleared almost the whole building.

Back in the war room, Mac strode in hoping for a warm welcome, instead everyone burst into laughter.

Jill followed close behind, and when he glanced at her he knew exactly why they were in hysterics. He grabbed the girly glasses from his face and all but tossed them back to Jill.

Jack was doubled over against the wall.

Riley was trying to hide her snickers behind a hand.

Boze was blatantly laughing and pointing.

Even Matty wore a smirk. “Thanks blondie,” she said, looking around at the ruins of her war room. “I think we all needed that laugh.”

4.

Jack laughed with everything he had, laid out flat on the deck of a ship that was slowly leaving the Falkland Islands behind. The relief of making it onto the boat at the last minute as it was leaving the dock had overtaken him, but now that his laughter was failing him a sort of panic set in and he reached out to the side for Mac, but got only handfuls of air. He opened his eyes and turned around to find that Mac was sprawled a few feet away, laughing so hard he had no breath left and his body was shaking with the unfunny humour of almost getting killed on another mission.

Jack rolled across the deck until he was snug up against Mac, and grabbed a handful of shirt to make sure it wasn’t some illusion. That his partner, the love of his life, was really there with him.

“You two ok?” A voice asked.

Jack tipped his head back to see the captain, a look of concern on her features.

“I promised the Phoenix Foundation that I’d deliver you two in tact for a tidy sum,” she said, “just want to make sure you’re all in one piece so I can make good on my end.”

“We’re good,” Jack giggled out, hand still fisted tightly in Mac’s shirt. “Thanks Captain.”

“Alright,” she said, a smile breaking her serious features. “There’s a room for you belowdeck when you’re ready. Just the one. You’ll have to share. It’s a long trip, but that’s all I could spare.”

“That’ll be just fine ma’am,” Jack said with a grin, sending Mac into another fit of laughter, his stomach shaking under Jack’s hand that still wouldn’t release its tight grip. No; he needed to know Mac was ok, Mac wasn’t going anywhere, Mac was his.

After too long laying on the cold deck, their laughter finally faded, the day turning toward night, they sat up. Jack’s fingers hurt and he finally let them release; he’d ruined Mac’s shirt, it was deformed and twisted and stretched beyond repair. Jack couldn’t care one bit. He’d buy Mac a new one. He'd buy him ten.

“Give me the pack,” Mac demanded.

Jack hugged their backpack full of what was left of their supplies protectively. “No. You ain’t wrecking anymore stuff. You’ll probably use the strap to make a slingshot or somethin’ and then it won’t be practical anymore.”

Mac sighed so hard it was almost a growl. “What use would I have for a slingshot? The mission is over. Come on Jack! I’m just looking for my glasses, I must have stuck them in there-”

“You know where you stuck them dude? In that doodad you made back there when we were haulin’ ass from the bad guys.”

Disappointment and memory danced in Mac’s eyes. “Right, I totally forgot.”

“Yeah, cause it’s usually my stuff you’re breakin’ and you ain’t used to it yet.”

“Don’t you have one of those spare pairs you’ve been stashing for me?” Mac asked, hopeful, hand still held out for the pack.

Jack shook his head. “Those were the spares dude! You wrecked the first pair to bridge that circuit on the-”

Mac’s shoulders sagged. “Right.”

“What do you need your glasses for anyway?” Jack asked. “Ain’t nothin’ to build or do but sit back and enjoy a nice long trip home.”

Mac sighed, and looked out at the sunset and Jack understood. They’d talked about it before: Mac could make out the colours, but a sunset just looked different when you could trace the details in the clouds, when you could see the lines of the colour changes in the sky.

“Sunsets are overrated,” Jack said, standing up and offering Mac a hand.

“Sit back and enjoy a nice long trip home eh?” Mac said, turning away from the sunset toward Jack, something he could focus on in the foreground. There was a twinkle in those blue eyes, a twinkle that Jack very much liked being on the receiving end of. “A nice long trip home in a shared bunk.” The tone was all innuendo. About as subtle as being hit by a bus. Mac took Jack’s hand and pulled himself up from the deck.

“You ain’t gonna miss them glasses one second all the way home if I got anything to say about it,” Jack said with a wink.

They turned away from the purple and orange sky, and made their way belowdeck.

5.

Mac stood at the front of the lecture hall, babbling on and on about the principles of slope stability and fluidization. Each class had been the same. Waves and waves of nervousness had overtaken him in the lead up to each lecture, but as soon as he started talking science, he didn’t even see the people in front of him anymore. He just focused on the science and everything was always alright. And apparently it worked out well because they kept asking him to come back. Apparently that his demonstrations were always a hit.

Ever since he’d taught that one class back in Mission City, he’d known teaching was something he wanted to do. Not all the time, it wasn’t his calling. There was so much more he could do with his brain than just teach. Which was one of the reasons he’d joined the army in the first place. School in general didn’t feel like a waste, but not something he could devote his whole life to. He needed to be helping people.

Part of that was standing in front of a large college classroom and speaking about different scientific principles twice a month as a guest speaker, while the rest of his time was spent acting as a secret agent and travelling around the world to stop terrorists and disasters.

Mac’s phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him from his lecture: the timer he’d set. The first few lessons he’d gone way over his time, so he'd started setting a timer to stop his rambling and avoid keeping students from their next classes.

“Alright, that’s all my time today,” Mac concluded, finishing the formula he was writing out on the board while he talked. “In conclusion: think outside the box when it comes to which principles apply to your situation. Sometimes one can be easier than another, despite the obvious.” Mac took off his glasses and set them down on the desk. It had become his signal to the students that he was done his lecture, and they all started filing out of the room.

Sure he could wear his contacts, it would be easier, but Jack had told him on more than one occasion that the glasses made him look a little older. And he wanted to distance himself from the students he was lecturing, who really, weren’t so much younger than himself.

While they all packed up their laptops and bags and made their way down the stairs and out to the hall, Mac grabbed his own piles of paper and shuffled them into his leather messenger bag. He didn’t really need the notes, but for some reason it was reassuring and helped to keep him on topic and avoid digressing.

When he looked up there was a pretty student standing in front of him, the rest of the room empty. Her long silky brown hair and steely grey eyes were striking. And she was definitely baring more skin than was normal for a science lecture.

She leaned against the desk, sticking her hip out to the side. “Professor-”

Mac cut her off. “I’m not actually a professor,” he sighed out. He’d told them that so many times he’d lost count. Whenever they asked questions, it was such habit, that they just called him professor. But he never let it slide. Not even once. Normally he offered that they should call him Mac, but he really wanted to put some distance between himself and this girl who was getting more flirtatious by the second. “It’s Mr. MacGyver. Just a civilian.”

She tilted her head to the side and did this thing with her lips that was… Mac needed to get out.

“You know, I really can’t stick around and answer any questions today,” he said, sliding his bag off the desk and throwing it across his body.

“Just one question?” She asked.

Mac sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. He held up his hand to indicate that she should continue, but made sure to keep the desk between them.

“Some of us noticed that every time you lecture the same guy picks you up after class out front,” she said. “Is he your boyfriend or something?” She asked the question like it was foolish and he was going to laugh it off.

Mac nodded. Well that made things easy. “Yeah, he is actually,” he admitted truthfully.

Her eyes widened and her body language changed immediately. Hadn’t been expecting that.

“I really have to go,” he said, backing out of the room like he was trying to get away from a bear.

Once he was free of the oppressive weight of that conversation, Mac jogged through the halls ready to forget the young girl and head back to the real world. Away from this part-time dream.

As always, Jack was leaned up against one of his cars, parked out in the street. Today it was the GTO, shined up and looking brand new just like always. And Jack looked just as good as always too; arms crossed to show off his muscled chest and arms; the dorky looking mohawk that he somehow made badass was styled up perfectly; feet crossed casually, but Mac could see the ever ready Delta instincts just below the surface, ready to jump into action at any second.

“How’d class go today _professor_?” Jack stretched out the last word, with a stupid grin on his face. Since the first day when Mac had told him about the confusion with the students calling him professor, Jack hadn’t let it drop.

Mac leaned against the car next to him. “Let’s just get outta here,” he said, “one of the girls was hitting on me at the end of class and asked if you were my boyfriend.”

“And?” Jack asked, genuinely curious. “What’d you say?”

“I told her you were,” Mac said.

Jack glanced across the street to the grounds, swimming with students.

“Well let’s give ‘em a show then,” Jack grinned, and wrapped his arm around Mac before there could be any protesting. He pulled Mac into his side and kissed him. It turned into a really good kiss, really fast. Jack’s hands in Mac’s hair, mouths open, arms around Jack’s waist.

Hooting and whistling from across the street broke the moment wide open and Jack let him go.

“Alright sweetheart,” Jack shot Mac an obnoxious wink. “Ready to bounce?”

Mac’s arms were still wrapped around Jack, forearm pressed between the sun-warmed shell of the GTO and the love of his life. If he was honest he didn’t want to go, he just wanted to stay in that pleasant, loving, perfect afternoon moment. The idea of an entire crowd of people watching them, knowing that they were together; it made Mac’s heart feel complete in a way it never had before. There was a possessiveness about it, but also a sense of pride.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Jack said softly, the tip of his nose tickling the soft skin behind Mac’s ear as he planted the most tender kiss on the birthmark under Mac’s jaw.

They weren’t normally PDA guys. But something about that moment was special, and Mac was afraid for it to end. Afraid it would never come again, when all he wanted was to show all the people of the world that he loved Jack Dalton and they were together.

“Yeah, alright,” Mac agreed finally, torn between leaving the moment behind, and the prospect of going home alone with Jack after the tingle the kiss had sent down his spine.

They disentangled from each other, Mac immediately missing the body heat, and climbed into the car. Mac was happy for the bench seat, he planned to slide right over next to Jack as soon as the car got moving.

“Where’s your glasses, genius professor?” Jack asked as he started the car.

Mac opened his leather bag and dug through crumpled papers and the random pieces of junk and electronics littering the bottom. No glasses in sight.

Mac closed his eyes with a groan and pictured his black rims sitting on the desk in the lecture hall. In his rush to get away from the girl he’d left them sitting there and hadn’t scooped them into his bag with the rest of his stuff.

“What?” Jack asked. “You lost ‘em again?” Mac could hear the grin in those words. Every time he lost a pair of glasses, Jack added it to the list. He counted. _Every time._ Mac would never live it down.

“Not exactly,” Mac narrowed his eyes at Jack. “I know where they are.”

“Alright, so go get ‘em,” Jack said. “I can wait.” He sat casually back, one arm on the back of the seat, the other on his knee. There wasn’t one thing about Jack that Mac didn’t find attractive as hell. How had he gone so many years without the ability to touch and hold and…

“No, it’s fine,” Mac said, spurred on by a combination of wanting to get Jack home, and possibly lose some clothes on the way to their bedroom, and not wanting to run into any of the students so soon after letting out the big secret.

Jack raised his eyebrows in return. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I got a spare set at home,” Mac said, throwing his bag into the back and sliding dangerously close to Jack on the bench seat.

“Home it is,” Jack didn’t smile or wink or quirk his eyebrow. That serious expression sent a shiver up Mac’s spine, and then back down again to spark in the best place. It was the expression Jack wore when he had a single goal in mind, and the determination to follow through on it.

Jack revved the GTO and accelerated into the street, leaving the speed limit in the dust the entire way home.

Plus 1.

Jack got back from the op late. An op Mac hadn’t been on. Their least favourite kind. Being separated was never easy for either of them. Although leaving Mac behind to work on some project with Jill had put Jack’s mind at ease. Whenever he was off doing what he did best: punching faces and shooting guns, it always helped him relax to know that Mac was stowed somewhere safe out of harm’s way.

The door opened quietly enough, always well oiled, lock and hinges both. Closing it behind him, he was equally careful despite the fact that he was so tired he wanted to fall down right there next to Rutherford the polar bear and fall asleep. Jack dropped his go-bag next to the bear’s feet and staggered toward the bedroom, avoiding the creaky board that Mac had been meaning to fix.

Warm light spilled out of the bedroom into the hall, and Jack hoped Mac hadn’t waited up for him. He did that sometimes. Worry and anxiety and a little PTSD keeping him up all hours waiting for his partner to walk back through the door, hopefully unharmed. More than a time or two when they’d been split up, Jack would arrive back at the Phoenix to find Mac curled up asleep in one of the war room’s leather chairs, Matty’s sweater tucked around his shoulders.

Mac _had_ tried to wait up. As evidenced by the book resting in his lap and the black rimmed glasses still resting on his nose where he was propped up against the headboard. But he hadn’t succeeded, and his head lolled to the side, dribbling a tiny drop of drool from the corner of his mouth. His breathing was heavy, and knowing Mac the way he did, Jack would swear he’d been asleep for a while. Probably going to end up with a crick in his neck, or back, or both.

Jack rounded the bed quietly as he could. He slipped the book from under Mac’s slender fingers, marked the page, and set it on the nightstand. Next he slid the glasses from his face, folded them carefully and set them on top of the book; right where Mac would find them no problem in the morning. None of the fumbling or searching that he usually went through when he was looking for them. Then he shut off the light.

Jack stripped to bare skin, eager to get rid of the dirty, mission-worn clothes he’d been wearing all day. Too tired for a shower he crawled into bed and his body immediately relaxed into the familiar softness of pillows and mattress on his side of the bed.

Jack moved close to Mac. He didn’t want to wake him, but needed to get him to move out of that awful torturous looking position. “Hey Mac, baby,” he said softly. He slipped an arm around Mac’s middle, not tickling the skin there, but putting warm pressure instead. “Come on man, slide on down,” he coaxed like he would have a skittish horse back on the family ranch.

Mac groaned in his sleep and shifted a little, turning toward Jack’s touch.

Jack leaned close to Mac’s arm and smelled that wonderful, clean smell that was all Mac. He regretted not having the shower, he probably smelled like gunfire, dirt and sweat.

Mac shifted again and turned his head toward Jack. Damnit, he’d been hoping not to wake him.

“You’re home,” Mac said sleepily, still not opening his eyes as he stretched his body, rolled onto his side, and slipped down under the covers next to Jack. Mac’s hand found Jack’s cheek, and Jack nuzzled into that touch. Mac ran his fingers from cheek to neck to shoulder, all the way down Jack’s body. And though the touches were soft and gentle like a lover, Jack knew he was checking for injuries. “All in one piece too,” Mac smiled into the darkness. Jack could see that smile in the moonlight shining in the window, but he could hear it in Mac’s voice too.

Well, he’d woken him up anyway; Jack slid closer, tightening his arm around Mac and pulling him close. Legs tangled up they lay forehead to forehead, leaving the world behind for a while and forgetting whatever had come before. Mac’s arm lay heavy on Jack’s hip.

“I missed you,” Mac breathed to the dark so quietly that Jack wouldn’t have heard if their lips weren’t almost touching. The desperation in his voice was obvious to Jack, coupled with the way Mac’s fingers unconsciously gripped at skin.

“I missed you too,” Jack replied just as softly.

Mac let out a soft whimper. And this was something Jack would never tire of. No matter what the emotion was: sadness, fear, anger, happiness, Jack was just happy to get to see those emotions. Around everyone else Mac was tight lipped and closed off, but when they were alone, he showed Jack everything. And the whimper that slipped from him was something so precious that Jack stored it away in his heart to keep forever.

“Shhhh,” Jack said, punctuating his soothing noises with a soft kiss, “shhhh, it’s alright. I’m home.”

Mac relaxed under the soft touches and sounds.

“It gets more difficult every time,” Mac said. He didn’t need to explain. Jack knew exactly what he meant: being separated was harder every time. Not that it happened often, but when it did, it was like a bullet to the heart. The very moment Matty said: “you’re staying home on this one,” to either of them the stress in the room was palpable.

“Don’t you worry about that now,” Jack said. “I’m always coming home. Got all the reason in the world don’t I?”

Mac’s hand slid comfortably around Jack’s back and hit an injury Jack hadn’t even known was there. Jack hissed.

“What was that?” Mac’s voice was alert, his body tense.

“Nothin’,” Jack shrugged it off. “Just a bruise. It ain’t nothin’. Get back to sleep already.”

Mac sat up in bed and Jack groaned at the loss of contact and warmth. “What’re you doin’?”

“Let me take a look,” Mac said as he flicked on the bedside lamp, nearly blinding Jack.

“You’re so dramatic,” Jack complained.

Mac grabbed his glasses from the night stand, right where Jack had left them, and slipped them on. “Turn over,” he commanded.

Knowing it was best to just get it over with, Jack rolled onto his stomach and let Mac examine him. Having a sensitive bruise poked and prodded at wasn’t Jack’s idea of a good time, and he let Mac know about it. “Come on now! You’re checkin’ me over not pickin’ out a cantaloupe!”

“Ok, ok, it’s just a bruise,” Mac said, “what happened?”

“How in the hell should I know?” Jack asked, tired and getting grumpier by the second. “I was runnin’ around the jungle bein’ shot at. Could’a been any old damn thing.” Now that he wasn’t being poked he was starting to fade back to sleep, comfortable on his stomach, face sunk into the soft pillow. “Now just settle in already.” His voice was heavy with sleep, his eyes wouldn’t open.

Jack heard the light click off, the orange glow against his eyelids traded for perfect black.

“Hold up, I didn’t hear you put those glasses back,” Jack said. “If you fall asleep with them on again we’ll never find them. They’ll end up under the mattress or some damn thing.”

Mac made that noise in the dark that was half scoff and half laugh. “Jeeze, you’re such a nag.”

But Jack heard the hollow sound of the glasses being set on top of the book, and finally let himself relax and slip into sleep. Just as he was about to enter his dreams, a warm arm snugly wrapped around him, avoiding his newest bruise on its way, and held him tight.

“Thanks for taking care of me Jack,” Mac whispered against Jack’s shoulder.

“Somebody’s gotta do it,” Jack slurred with sleep. “Or you’d never make it out of the house in the mornin’.”

And then he was lost in the secure warmth next to him and the deep sleep of the exhausted.


	2. Bonus: Below Decks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: sequel to #4 as requested by Lavender!
> 
> Quick recap: They've just boarded a cargo ship from the Falkland Islands and have to share a cabin aboard for a few days as they make their way back home.
> 
> Mac and Jack find their way to their cabin belowdecks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'ed

Mac stood in the small hallway of the ship while he waited for Jack to open the door to the cabin they would share for the next few days.

“Home sweet home,” Jack said as he threw open the door. Jack didn’t move an inch, just stood looking in.

Mac smiled for a second at the frown on Jack’s face. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” They’d been in Afghanistan, and weathered some nights in pretty uncomfortable places. Jack was just being dramatic. Mac pushed past him and into the room and stopped dead. He wasn’t even sure “room” was a good descriptor. It was definitely bad.

The little cabin had one bunk hanging from he wall, and a small desk that folded down from the other wall for use while sitting on the bed. A small window looked out at the darkening sea, and that was it. Barely room for the two of them to stand up. And the bunk was tiny.

Mac walked all the way to the window and looked out at the blurry, pink and orange ocean on the other side.

“It’s not so bad,” Jack said, walking in behind him and shutting the door.

Mac turned. They were about six feet away from each other.

“I mean look at this view, right?” Jack said with his happiest grin and a lifted eyebrow, arms held out to imply himself.

“Well, you know,” Mac said, crossing his arms, “I did lose my glasses, so it’s a little hard to see.”

“Maybe if you got closer, you know, you could see it better,” Jack replied with a shrug, grin still firmly in place.

Mac took a few slow steps across the room until he was standing face to face with Jack. “View’s much better from here,” Mac said softly. He rested his hands on Jack’s vest, chest holster still holding the gun with the empty clip. “But, it would be better without all this gear in the way.”

Jack nodded, and without another word Mac reached around to the velcro straps, ripped them free, and dropped the vest behind Jack on the floor.

They closed the last little gap between their bodies. Maybe exhaustion, maybe the need for tenderness, their movements were slow and soft instead of rough and passionate. The looked into each other’s eyes, closer and closer, but lingered those few inches away from actually touching or kissing, just holding eye contact. Mac loved Jack’s eyes; every emotion laid bare there if someone knew what to look for. And Mac knew exactly. 

Mac’s hands started at Jack’s hips, sliding up over his shirt behind his shoulders until he was rubbing gentle, relaxing circles with his fingertips where the tac vest always wore grooves into Jack’s skin from the pressure and weight. Jack’s hands slid up Mac’s stomach, around his neck and into his hair. Jack loved his hair, running the golden strands through his fingertips. “Just the most beautiful colour,” Jack had said once, still half asleep in bed one morning, absently like he’d been talking to himself, “perfect. Like the sun’s always out, even when it’s dark.”

The tips of their noses tickled against each other as they got closer, until finally Mac tipped his head back that little bit so their lips could meet. He let his eyes close and felt Jack sink forward against him. Jack tasted like gun oil and smoke and dirt. It was perfect. Wind chapped lips, and open mouths and a longing that would last forever.

Mac pulled back for a breath, and Jack chased him for a moment to finish in his own time and pull away when he was ready. He nuzzled softly against Mac’s cheek, ever the romantic, as they panted a little. Mac didn’t mind at all that Jack was such a sap. He loved it, relished it, would box it up for rainy days when Jack was away from him if he could.

“What say we get some sleep huh?” Jack asked. And from the tone of his voice he actually meant sleep. Mac couldn’t argue, they were both way too tired for anything else, and they had lots of time. Based on what Matty had told them, the ship had to make all of its routine stops so as not to arouse suspicions; which meant four more days aboard.

Mac reluctantly turned away from Jack, who ran his hands around Mac’s waist and pulled them together again anyway.

Mac eyed the small, single, bunk. “This is going to be… complicated,” he said.

“So? Come on genius, figure it out,” Jack urged, rubbing his scruffy cheek against Mac’s neck. “Like, there’s gotta be some ratio of you on top’a me that’s gotta make this doable.”

“Why do I have to be the one on top?” Mac asked.

“Ok, let’s not get started arguing about size and weight, but it makes the most sense for me to be on the bottom,” Jack said. “The sturdy base for our kinky little pyramid.”

Mac smiled and wondered if there was some way he could rig something up to expand the size of the sleep surface. Maybe if he could get ahold of a piece of plywood, some rope and few carabiners he could make it work. But it was late, and he didn’t want to bother the crew trying to dig up supplies. That would have to be a morning project. Something to keep his brain busy for the start of the long journey. Something other than Jack, cause Jack could definitely keep him plenty busy.

“Alright Mr sturdy base,” Mac said, motioning toward the bunk. “Get into position.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Jack said, peppering Mac’s neck with a few quick kisses before he slipped out of his cargo pants, pulled back the blankets, and laid down on the bed in his underwear and t-shirt.

Mac followed suit, dropping his pants to the floor and removing the shirt Jack had ruined with his strong hands when they’d first collapsed on deck. He crawled on top of Jack, laying his shoulder in the space between Jack and wall, though most of his body was sprawled over Jack and Mac thought he could definitely fall asleep listening to the beating of Jack’s heart.

“Mac?” Jack asked quietly.

Mac looked up to meet those big round emotional eyes of Jack’s again. “Yup?” He asked.

“I don’t know how much sleep I’ll be able to manage like this,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Mac sat up a little, shifting, concerned. “Am I… pinching or… is my knee…” He let the questions trail off as he looked down and tried to figure out what was making Jack uncomfortable.

“Naw baby,” Jack said, his voice rough. He only used terms of endearment when he was caught up in their intimacy. “You’re puttin’ pressure in all the right places.”

Mac smiled down at the idiot. Really? After all they’d been through? They hadn’t slept in almost 24 hours and had spent most of the time they weren’t sleeping, running and fighting and almost dying. And Jack Dalton’s libido was raring and reading to go?

“Really?” Mac said aloud, voicing all of those opinions in one word. Jack would get it all with just that one word, that was how they worked.

Mac leaned back down, and kissed Jack softly. Jack pulled him in and the urgency in his touch was growing by the second. 

Before it got out of hand, Mac sat back up. “Well, I’m sorry Jack, but I’m way too tired.”

Jack smiled in return. “That’s ok Mac,” he replied, putting a hand back up into Mac’s hair and pulling him down to lay on his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

The gentle rocking of the ship, the soft beating of Jack’s heart, and the rough day sent Mac off to sleep in no time. A dreamless sleep that let his brain and body finally rest in the arms of the man he loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Lavender!!!!


End file.
